


Along The River

by Bubbly_Kandy



Category: Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain, Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn & Related Fandoms
Genre: (They're like 14), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assumed Character Death, Depression, F/M, Huck and Jim Don't Show Up For A Bit, More chapters on the way, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, This Will Get Light-Hearted, Tom Has ADHD, Tom and Becky Have Puppy Love, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubbly_Kandy/pseuds/Bubbly_Kandy
Summary: Huck Finn is presumed dead, and Tom doesn't take it so well.





	1. Greasy Coins

Tom fidgeted in his seat, his hands dancing together in his lap as he heard his teacher drone on and on about World War One and the trenches, Becky obediently scribbling down notes beside him. He would have to ask her to look at her notes- probably have to pay her, too. His hands skipped to his pocket- he felt a crisp one dollar bill, along with some greasy coins. Why were they greasy?

He tried to pay attention to the teacher- he liked history, he really did. He enjoyed reading about all the presidents and their accomplishments and such, and he got to sit beside Becky Thatcher. However, his mind seemed to want to wander today, it deeming the trenches and poems _about_ the trenches boring. It wanted very much to think about the greasy coins in his pocket that had no reason to _be_ greasy.

He wished he had a hoodie on- that way he could sneakily find some music to listen to and get his mind off of the _stupid greasy coins._ Sadly, Aunt Polly had denied him from a hoodie, going on and on about how the fall day could and would get warmer and _you don’t want heatstroke, Tom, believe you me._

Tom sometimes wondered if his aunt understood that hoodies had arms that he could tie around his waist if it got too warm. Also, did Aunt Polly remember the summer he _did_ get heatstroke? He hadn’t been wearing a hoodie, in fact, he was barely wearing anything at all. He got it at the pool.

He felt someone kick his leg; he blinked out of his thoughts, looking at Becky Thatcher, who was looking down at her paper like nothing happened. Tom picked up his pencil quickly, looking at the board and copying everything down with messy handwriting. Something about gangrene, boredom, tear gas… Got it.

Still holding his pencil, his eyes drifted to the empty chair in the front and center of the classroom; Huck was late. Again. He hadn't come in all week.

Tom knew he shouldn’t be worried; Huck was late often. Sometimes, he didn’t show up at all. That was just how Huck was- even the school got that. Huck still got detentions, but not nearly as many as he would’ve gotten if he was a normal student. But, since he was a _special case,_ the school didn’t care as much.

Becky kicked his leg again, harder. Tom shook his head, cursing Sid for wanting to get to school early for his robotics. The kid had made him forget to take his medicine. Medicine for ADHD, as his Aunt Polly called it, but what Huck called _‘Stupid Bitch Repellent.’_ Tom liked Huck’s version more.

Another kick- this one was hard, making Tom jump in his seat. Becky then jabbed him with her pencil, Tom looking down at her paper.

_What’s the matter with you?_

Tom smiled slightly, looking up to judge where the teacher was. He was still teaching; now they were learning about the effects of tear gas. Lovely. Tom pulled Becky’s paper a little closer, almost writing _‘everything’_ but judging against it.

_meds have left the ‘my body’ chat_

Becky snorted quietly, then tilting her head curiously before writing her own reply.

_Meds?_

_yea adhd_

_dumb bitch disease_

That made Becky snort again, a little louder. She stifled it with a cough, the teacher seeming to not even notice. She pulled her paper back, tapping on Tom’s with her eraser.

\---

The class ended, breathing life into half the class as the other half began chatting as they packed up. That was how things went on block days- the attention from the class was long gone before the extended hour was done. Tom began to pack up, Becky as well.

“You have ADHD?” She asked, Tom humming an affirmative.

“You couldn’t notice?” He asked, Becky laughing shortly. He could imagine her rolling her eyes. They stood up, Becky yelling a ‘thanks’ to the teacher as they walked out of class.

“I dunno, I just thought you were energetic,” She said, shrugging her backpack onto her shoulder. “What’s it like?”

“Terrible.” Tom snuck an arm around her, Becky leaning into his touch happily. “Sid made me forget my medicine today.”

“Sucks,” Becky said, the two arriving at her math class. She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the class before walking out of Tom’s light hold, turning around and walking backwards into the door, opening it. “See you at lunch?”

“See you,” Tom agreed, Becky waving goodbye to him before walking into class. Tom stuck his hands into his pockets, heading to the library for his English class.

“Sawyer!” He heard a voice call, spinning on his heel to face the superintendent of the school jogging towards him.

“What?” He asked, the superintendent catching up to him.

“You’re not in trouble,” the man said, starting to guide Tom to the office. “We just need you in the office.”

 _Seems like I’m in trouble,_ Tom wanted to say, instead biting his tongue and trying his best to not run into people.

\---

“Hello, Thomas,” The principal said once he got there, taking him away from the superintendent. “We just need to tell you something- it has to do with Huck.”

“Huck?” Tom asked, his former tenseness completely melting out of him. This would be easy. Tom would just have to tell a police officer where Huck liked to hide when he ran away. He ran over the places in his head- _my house. The woods. Jackson's Island._ Easy.

He was lead to a conference room where, surprisingly, there was Joe Harper, Aunt Polly, a police officer, and Sid. Sid looked more anxious than usual- Joe looked like he was about to cry, oddly enough.

“What’s up?” Tom asked, sitting in an open chair opposite from Aunt Polly and Sid. Joe hid his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Aunt Polly seemed to be emotionless, Sid clinging to her sleeve.

“Hello, everyone,” a police officer said, sitting at the head of the table. Tom waved, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “We have saddening news-”

“Huck usually hides on Jackson Island,” Tom interrupted, Aunt Polly glaring at him.

“Thomas,” she snapped, Tom shrugging at her.

“Thank you, son,” the police officer said, sighing deeply. Joe Harper sobbed suddenly, Tom shooting him a glance of mild disgust. “However, that isn’t what we want to talk about. Last Wednesday-”

“What else about Huck, then?” Tom asked, his leg starting to bounce rapidly. “He ain’t-”

“Huckleberry Finn is presumed dead.”


	2. Bloody Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write grief... sorry
> 
> mentions of blood and violence in this chapter- please take care of your mental health!!

Tom felt the blood drain from his face as each word came out of the officers mouth, Joe’s renewed sobs deadened by his ears starting to ring. His vision began to grow grey and fuzzy, like static on a TV screen. All he could feel was his heart beating, hard and fast, and his stomach turning.

“Oh, God,” he whispered, his knuckles beginning to ache- why did they ache?

_ “Thomas,” _ he heard, Tom swallowing back bile before rapidly blinking, trying to clear the grey spots from his eyes. His face felt wet, and he startled as he felt a foreign object touch his face and then he realized how fast he was breathing, he probably shouldn’t be breathing that fast, why was he breathing that fast?

“Thomas!” Aunt Polly said, and Tom’s vision cleared to see his aunt to be standing in front of him, bending over slightly and holding his face. He choked on his own tears, his mind pounding with  _ Huck is dead, Huck is dead, Huck is dead.  _

“You’re lying,” he said smally, Aunt Polly’s eyebrows furrowing together slightly. He took his face away, balancing himself on the table and looking straight at the officer. “You’re  _ lying.”  _

“I’m sorry,” was all the man said, Tom’s stomach rolling again. His breathing sped up again- had it slowed in that time?

“You’re lying! He ain’t dead!” Tom started to yell, Sid cowering away from him. “Huck ain’t dead- he’s too smart for that!”

“Thomas!” Aunt Polly pushed him back into his seat, Tom having half a mind to bite her hand. He didn’t; he sat in the chair, feeling like he was about to vomit. He wanted to leave- Joe’s quiet crying made him grow more and more irritated and sad and angry and a whole other plethora of things until he wanted to smash Joe’s face in. Aunt Polly sat back down, and Tom realized  _ exactly  _ what was going on. 

The officer told them what happened, showing them pictures from the scene after he made sure no one was going to vomit. Tom was fixated on a particular photograph- Huck had his head cracked on the table, a little bit of blood the only thing remaining from the brutal task. “We can’t find his body,” the officer told them, the words adding fuel to the whirlwind within Tom’s mind. 

Huck was, assumedly, in his house, where someone broke through the door with an ax, which broke after the door was broken. He and Huck fought, Huck cracking his head on the table, then getting shot, probably in the chest. He then was dragged out of the house. His clothes were found, bloodied, in the river, along with a bloody bullet- the found blood was proven to be Huck’s. 

The officer then asked questions, like “How was Huck’s home life?” and “Was Huck ever targeted by a certain person?” And Tom sat there numbly, Joe answering everything. 

Tom knew ‘the Question’ was coming soon. It was different than the Pap question; the Pap question would be answered truthfully if Huck ever landed in the hospital with bruises and cuts all over. But the  _ bigger _ Question was to be never answered. Huck wouldn’t want that. Or would he, now that he was-?

“My last question,” the police officer said, Tom staring down at the table. “Is-”

“Huck has-  _ had _ depression,” Tom burst out, his lip starting to quiver. “He- he never wanted to say, but he always tells me about- he told me about not feelin’ like he was- was-” he bit his lip harder, sniffling loudly. “Like he isn’t  _ worthy  _ enough to be alive.”

The room was quiet, then Tom was suddenly in the moving car, Sid glued to his side. He didn’t have the heart to push him away- what happened to being in the room? Had he time travelled? He felt vaguely uncomfortable, as he always did when he couldn’t remember certain lengths of time- but that was buried by the fact that Huck was  _ dead.  _ His body wasn’t found. They couldn’t bury him. 

Tom gagged, Sid jumping off of him and yelling at Aunt Polly to pull over the car. Tom fumbled open the car door, puking up everything from the day. More tears dripped from his eyes as he leaned over the frame of the car door, hiccupping and retching a few more times before he closed the door, his breathing short and choppy once more.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice high-pitched and pathetic. Sid didn’t touch him for the rest of the car ride, and Aunt Polly’s coos and gentle tone is so alien to Tom that he didn’t know what to do until they arrived at their house.

Tom numbly walked to his bedroom, talking to no one and nearly tripping over Peter the cat, who meowed and smacked his calf with a paw. Tom barely reacted, falling face first onto his bed once he got there and stared blankly at the wall, tears still rolling out of his eyes.

He laid there for an indiscernible amount of time, and he could almost  _ hear  _ Huck laughing and calling him a lazy ass. The thought violently broke down the walls, Tom beginning to wildly sob into his pillow. He screamed at and bit and beat his bed and pillows until they were a mess, cursing out Huck and Huck’s pap and God until his eyes burned so harshly he could hardly dare to open them.

He laid amidst his own destruction, his torso feeling like it was being ripped open and carved out. He couldn’t cry, anymore- he didn’t have the energy within him too. He only could stare up at the ceiling fan, his mind whirling with memories of Huck that would never be added onto again.

There was no body to bury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I spat these two chapters out, but hopefully I'll have a chapter or two a week. They'll be a thousand words or a little less- that's super easy for me to write, and that way I can hopefully keep up with that weekly goal. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Sink Showers

Tom didn’t go to school the rest of the week. Half of the next.

He could feel and hear his phone buzzing- he knew it was Becky, obviously worried about his whereabouts. She knew the news- they had a school assembly to remember Huck, according to Sid.

Aunt Polly let him stay at home- she told him to tell her if he was feeling worse, Tom just staring at his wall until she left. Sid brought him food- it usually was uneaten, a few small nibbles at most. Tom would feel sick if he ate any more.

Tom knew he couldn’t do this forever- but it felt like he was tied down to his bed, heavy ropes holding him down. Oil seemed to fill his chest- it felt heavy, now, not raw and oozing like before. A barely formed scab.

Joe came to visit on Sunday, right after church. Joe sobbed and whimpered the whole time, Tom trying his best to stay awake and to at least  _ try  _ to give him conversation. 

In that week, Tom began to sleep for a long, long time. His dreams were mostly empty, Tom falling asleep then waking up in the post-nap half-awake-half-asleep way that made him feel squirmy. When his dreams  _ weren’t  _ empty, however… he didn’t like thinking about that.

His ADHD was getting mad at him- all he wanted to do was sleep forever, and then maybe decompose in his bed in a few years, but his monkey brain wanted to get up and move around. Sometimes he just stayed in bed, but then other times he would wander aimlessly around the house, stumbling around like a zombie. Soon, though, he started to feel more awake, and he could even shake off the chains and get up, even for a little bit. 

(Sid and he began to play a lot more video games.)

After Aunt Polly realized how nasty and grimy Tom was getting lying in bed and the couch all day for now almost two weeks, she took matters into her own, slightly wrinkled hands. At first, she would get him out of bed and into the bathroom, where she first stripped him down to his boxers and gave him a bath, like when he was little. It soon, though, proved too difficult for his aunt, and they decided on a sink shower every day.

Aunt Polly wasn’t the best at conversation unless Tom got her going, but  _ Tom _ didn’t want to get going now so she became the rambler. They- well, she- ‘talked’ about the news, Tom’s dirty ears, and, one day, Huck.

“I ‘member when they came into town,” Aunt Polly started, Tom staring at the drain and trying to see deeper inside it, past the hair clumps. “Huck was probably the prettiest little baby ever- aside from Mary and you boys, of course. He got his looks from his mum, that’s for sure.” 

Tom shivered as the water started, Aunt Polly using the sprayer to get his hair wet. 

“‘Course, Huck was a naughty child,” she said, Tom huffing out something that was a pale, unformed laugh. “Always getting himself dirty- though all children do that. His mum was a sweet little thing- she and your mum were getting real close before your poor mum died, bless her soul.” Her fingernails scratched Tom’s skull as she poured on shampoo, making him cringe. “Sorry, is that too rough?”

“No,” Tom muttered, shrugging as best he could when his head was upside down in a sink. “It’s fine.”

“Alright.” The two were quiet, Aunt Polly lathering his hair up again. 

“How’d Huck and I meet?” Tom asked, pushing down the ball in his throat. Aunt Polly scoffed softly, scrubbing Tom’s scalp.

“You were with your mum and Sid at the park,” she told him, vibrations from the floor telling Tom that Sid had heard his name from the other room. “Huck was sittin’ all alone by the creek, so  _ you-”  _ she poked the back of his neck  _ hard _ with a fingernail, causing him to complain with a strangled noise. “Decided to be a snot and tried to dump creek water on his head.”

Sid snorted, and Tom pushed himself up from the sink to glare at him. Aunt Polly pushed him back down, and Sid escaped to the other room again. 

“What did mom do?” He asked, his aunt spraying his hair free of soap before pulling him up.

“Stopped you, of course. Told you to say hi, like a big boy.” She rubbed Tom’s hair with a towel, tweaking his nose before pushing him onto a kitchen chair so she could dry his hair with the hair dryer. “Well, you did, and the rest is history.”

Tom hummed, holding the towel around his shoulders loosely as she began to quickly comb through his hair, flecks of water landing on his face. Tom opened his mouth to say something else, but the hair dryer cut him off before he could speak.

“Can Tom play Smash?” Sid yelled during an interval of Aunt Polly drying his hair. Tom shrugged, just about to relent before the brush accidently raked, painfully, over his ear. 

“Ow!” He yelped, covering his ear with his hand and dodging Aunt Polly’s hand. “Careful, please?”

“Sorry, sorry,” his aunt said, batting his hand away from his ear and brushing more carefully until Tom’s hair was free of snarls and had a fluff to it. Tom thanked her and stood, starting to head into the living room to play with Sid when she suddenly wrapped her arms around him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Tom shifted uncomfortably, quickly patting his aunt on the arm twice. She didn’t say anything, but she soon let him go and returned the pats. She then pushed him toward the other room, where Sid was patiently waiting with Smash Bros. on the screen and another Gamecube controller hooked up. 

“I’m gonna beat you,” Sid said confidently, Tom barking out a laugh as he sat heavily on the couch, plucking the other controller out of his younger brother’s hand. “What?”

“In your wet dreams, Siddie,” Tom teased, Sid squeaking indignantly as Aunt Polly yelled from the other room about language. “Sorry, aunty!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE AUNT POLLY >:'^(
> 
> Tom is still mourning! However, Tom is definitely a person who can (publicly) bounce back from grief, as seen in the books. Even if he's still suffering internally, he can start to act like his old self again- but sometimes he doesn't do a very good job.
> 
> Hope u enjoyed!!


	4. Schoolhouse Flop

Tom wasn’t ready for school. 

He sat in the auditorium, pressing his knuckles into his eyes as he tried to hold back burning, angry tears. “Damn you,” he said to himself, his voice ugly and crackling. His backpack was nowhere to be seen- he had kicked it somewhere. 

It had  _ almost  _ been a good day. ‘Course, all of his friends in class treated him like glass and acted like Huck’s name was Voldemort's, but he could deal with that. That was alright. He could talk about Huck without immediately pitching into tears; he could have handled it. Sure, Aunt Polly had taken his phone away for the day for completely unfair reasons, but he was used to that.

It all went to hell at lunch. Tom didn't even remember what happened. One minute, he was sitting and eating with Becky, Amy, and Ben, but the next- the next involved Tom running from the cafeteria and into the auditorium, feeling like he was going to die. 

His eyes burned more as he tried to control his breathing, his breaths short and choppy. He felt like he did when he found out Huck was dead- now he feels even more horrible because he thought about Huck and-

“Tom?” Someone called. Tom stopped his whining  _ damn  _ quick, covering his mouth and nose but severely regretting it soon after. He sniffed pathetically, his  _ freaking  _ girlfriend sitting beside him on a chair. 

They were quiet, Becky wisely letting Tom get his shit together before talking. 

“Are you-?”

“I wanna go  _ home,”  _ Tom said, pressing his hands into his eyes. Becky stayed quiet, obviously trying to think of what to say and she shouldn't, she should be out having lunch and laughing with Amy and Ben instead of having to take care of Tom's ridiculous-

Becky said something. Probably ridiculing Tom's dumb ass, telling him he was a baby, what with all his crying at school-

“Do you have your phone?” She asked again. Tom dared to take a look; Becky looked so,  _ so  _ worried, her hand on the armrest between them. Tom shook his head, feeling a whole  _ nother  _ wave of emotions go over him as he remembered the whole fight that happened that morning between his aunt and he.

“Oh, then I'll just-” Becky pulled out her phone- rose gold, Tom saw. He weakly smiled, taking his hands off his face and cringing at the wet residue. “Should I call your aunt, or…?”

Tom merely nodded, rubbing his face and resting his forehead miserably on his knees. He didn’t want to go talking to the school about going home- he just wanted to  _ leave.  _ Hell, if he weren’t the mess he was at the moment, he would run off, maybe taking Becky with him to Jackson’s Island or deep in the woods.

He listened to Becky talk on the phone, his mind going to the blank place it always went after he cried. It had been doing that a lot recently, it seemed. 

“Your aunty is goin’ to pick you up,” Becky said gently, Tom nodding silently. “Want me to get your stuff?”

“I’m fine, Becky,” Tom replied. He stood, grabbed his backpack, then nearly headed out of the auditorium with Becky by his side before he paused. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, mumbling out a ‘thanks’ as she blushed pink.

“It’s alright, you probably shouldn’t have-” she redirected her sentence. “You wanna come over? Maybe Friday? Caesar won’t bother you, promise I swear.”

Tom shuddered at the thought of Becky’s dog, gulping silently to himself. Still, he nodded, thanking her and choking on the spit lodged in his throat. 

“Thanks for everythin’, Becks,” he said, Becky waving him off towards the front office. “See you Friday?”

“I’ll walk you to my house.” Becky smiled sweetly, hugging Tom tightly before heading back to the cafeteria, leaving Tom to sit and wait patiently for aunt Polly to drive him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long!!
> 
> To everyone in the Discord- I'm sorry I haven't been online. My mom heard us talking on the VC, and she realized that a lot of y'all are adults, so she took my phone as a punishment. I'll hopefully be online sooner or later- I just need to charge my iPod. (i wont be on the vc anymore, lol)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. 'The Notebook' With 14 Year Olds

The night was cool and still, the month of October beginning to close. Becky held Tom’s hand as she skipped outside, settling herself in the grass. She patted the space next to her, Tom sitting himself down like a doll with its strings cut. 

“Ain’t it pretty?” Becky asked, Tom shrugging and humming. “Gosh, I’m gonna miss fall.”

“I won’t,” Tom said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Can we go inside, now?”

“Nope,” Becky said, shaking her head. She started playing with the end of her braid, the backlight from the house along with the moon illuminating her in a gorgeous light. Tom stared at her for a while, wondering how in the world he was able to date Becky Thatcher. 

Becky suddenly stood again, grabbing Tom’s hand and pulling him to the road, which hadn’t seen a car in an hour. She skipped to the middle of the road, Tom making a strangled cry.

“Becky!”

“What?” She asked, fluffing her skirt before sitting down on the road, soon laying on her back. “Come on, sit with me.”

“No!” Tom yelled, frantically looking both ways as they talked. “You could get run over!”   


“As if,” She laughed, rolling her eyes before making her hands into a pillow beneath her head. “No one in Saint Petersburg would do that. Come on, now.” She flicked her head in a ‘come here’ motion, smiling at Tom.

Tom grumbled, walking into the street and sitting with her. He slowly laid down beside her, looking at at the stars. Becky hummed, tapping her foot on the road.

“My mom and I would do this all the time, when I was a kid,” She said, Tom turning his head to look at her. “‘Course, we lived in a dinkier town than this- the deepest hick spot in Florida.” She giggled a little, Tom joining her. “We had a traffic light right in front of our house- we would sit outside and watch the lights change.”

“Sounds like ‘The Notebook,’” Tom said, Becky giggling again. 

“I know, right?” She said, Tom smiling lightly before looking back up at the stars. “My mom wanted to name me Allie, you know, after the girl? But my dad said no- he’s not a fan of the movie. So, they named me Rebekah, AKA Becky.” 

“Cool.” Tom copied Becky’s pose, using his arms as a pillow. “My dad’s name was Thomas.”

“So, you’re Tom Sawyer the second?”

“The fourth, actually.” The two fell silent. Tom felt comfortable, much more comfortable than he should when he was laying in the middle of a street, completely vulnerable. Maybe it was because he was with Becky; maybe it was the thought of possible death.

“Do you like this?” Becky asked quietly, Tom humming and nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah! It’s fun.” 

“Good.” Becky sounded like she was smiling. She then sighed, her voice getting quieter. “I wanted to do somethin’ crazy, somethin’ you might like.”

“Why?” Tom asked, taking his arms out from under his head and resting them on his stomach. 

“You’re so  _ sad,”  _ Becky said, Tom’s eyebrows furrowing. “And I understand! I get it. It’s just…” She sighed, Tom turning his head to look at her again. “I know this sounds corny 'n all, but I miss the happy you. I wanna get him back.” She giggled suddenly, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Even if it means putting our lives in mortal-” she giggled more, Tom looking at her confusedly. “Puttin’ our lives in mortal danger!”

She began to full on laugh, curling up and rolling on her side as she did. Tom felt himself slowly begin to smile, her laughter infectious. Becky sat up, still laughing, fruitlessly covering her mouth to stop the giggle-snorts that left her. Tom began to awkwardly laugh, Becky looking at him with shiny eyes. He sat up, Becky starting to get her giggles under control. 

They looked at each other, Becky losing control once again of her laughter. She rolled backwards, her arms wrapped around her stomach. Tom’s awkward laugh got more confident; he laughed freely, his belly beginning to ache as well. 

“I don’t know that was so funny,” Becky giggled, sounding a little breathless. “But  _ goodness,  _ that was the hardest I’ve laughed in awhile.”

“Same," Tom said, his belly aching from laughter. "Thanks, Becky."

"No need to thank me." Becky laid back on the road, Tom laying beside her again. "It's nice, hearing you laugh again." 

"It's nice  _laughin'_ again," Tom replied, huffing out a vague almost-laugh. "It's been a while."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chap pre-written, so I decided to post it as a apology, lmao
> 
> Hope u enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you stick with me for this story!! Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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